The True Hollywood Story
by Sasami1
Summary: Raphael's 'Indiana Jones' style adventure to reclaim the heirloom sword of Hamato Yoshi. Thnx waterfish. Please r&r *Chapter 6 now up*
1. Chapter 1

Title here, please.

~Sasami~

For those of you who've disregarded the given title, good for you. I really don't know what to call this story anyway. There's action. There's adventure. It's modeled loosely after some sort of Bond movie. And oh yes, there's a wise ass chick. So many twists! So read forth, gentle viewer. 

~S

Many people would take this opportunity to reflect on their lives as they've lived them. Their sundering defeats. Making whatever 'painful' lives they've had leak into one another before their eyes. And then be filled with morose over their trembling and dry death. All the grieving, futile prayers, and confused anger winding up slowly into madness.

And here _I_ am giving a monologue. Figures. I was never much for wallowing anyway. When your whole life is about walking shoulder deep in sludge, you don't tend to stick your head in for the view. That about sums it up I guess.

Maybe not. Master would say I'm too pessimistic. Master. Someone once asked me why I never called him father, or dad, or something like that. As if our family was some BDSM shit. I think we call him Master out of respect. You wouldn't walk up to a monk or a priest and call them Joe. We were just always taught to call him Master. And after awhile, Master was the same thing as Father. I think he knew that.

Well. That killed thirty seconds. Might as well start thinking of a way out of this pit. Looking up at the ceiling, there's that band of hope still. Out of reach. Just like every fucking thing these days.

Makes you wonder how I, one of the famous mutant ninja turtles, wound up in this predicament. Facing a slow and boring death at the hands of my own hunger probably. I suppose the story starts many ages ago in Japan. Or how part of a heritage traveled to New York City in the sixties. Then again, I'd like to get out of here sometime today.

~~

Hundreds of miles from home, sitting alone (again) at a nearby pub. The last call was coming and the already wound down scene began to wind down into an empty hall. It was the sad part of a nightly cycle. 

Seated at the far end of the bar, Raphael frowned into his mug. Far being much more a state of mind than a measure of distance. Ever since he moved out of New York a loneliness had settled over him. Like a wet blanket trying to smother a fire. His pride was one of the few things that kept him from moving home with his brothers now. But…

Being a Mutant-American no longer afforded him the same freedom he had as a derelict. And living in this new, yet familiar, world was one of the most uncomfortable and disappointing points of his life. He longed to simply slip into the city's' sewers and live again in secrecy. If it wouldn't be so idiotic and hypocritical of his past.

No, he was here to stay. The world wanted its mutants out of the closet. Even if they didn't act that way. The world, that is. Looking down the emptying bar, Raphael could see that the woman of Earth believed this twice as much. The local peasant maids wouldn't get closer than four seats away.

That last figure given by that night, as it was. Usually woman congregated at the _complete_ opposite end of the bar. A tight blond had stayed past her bedtime. And hadn't been scared off by the green monster in the corner. Or maybe was in to that sort of thing, he didn't know. By the looks of it, she was definitely looking for something there. Dressed how she was and all. But this wasn't a story in Penthouse. Even those sidelong glances he had received, girls only meant trouble. Or a lawsuit according to the papers. Raphael resumed frowning into the rim of foam in the bottom of the mug. He was starting classes in the morning. Although he could've downed another glass before closing, he wouldn't have been able to drive the ten blocks back to his apartment.

Dropping a few bills on the counter, Raphael mused he still had a nearly full case of Budweiser in his refrigerator. He laid his coat over his arm and turned out of the seat. The girl was looking hard into a shot glass, shattering his faint hope of a one nighter. Turning straight ahead to the door, he strode through down the wood planks, which creaked under his weight. They reminded him of Casey's'. A shot of spit struck the ground and splattered over the side of his shoe.

~~

The room was vastly oversized by comparison to the class. Seven to eight men and women in their early twenties reclined against the first row of old desks. Raphael the only mutant among them in the musky brown hall.

The conversation was light in a repetitive and impressionistic sort of way. Stories from around the globe bounced back and forth. As usual, the turtle was silent. It never ceased to amaze him how humans continually amazed themselves with their own voices. He looked away out the window. 

His mind was on more important things that afternoon. Nothing a simple human would understand. Leonardo had called that morning. None of his brothers ever called in the morning, from long years of electro-Raph therapy. 

Hamato Yoshi's sword had been stolen. The one thing Splinter had taken from the apartment nearly thirty years ago, an heirloom samurai sword from Japan. It had been left with the turtles five years ago when Splinter returned to Rokko. And last night, someone had taken it.

His brothers were distraught in uproar. Leo said that their younger brother Mike had gone busting heads until dawn. Don had almost joined him, except for the threat of his work in the morning. By now they were all around the war table. His own chair empty.

The only thing that kept him from returning home was this class. There were only these three classes before the weekend, and if he were to miss any one of them he would be automatically expelled. Which is what he told his brother that morning. The disappointment followed him here. He figured on at least finishing the morning's class before making a decision. Returning to his brothers tempted him. Restoring honor. Another adventure…

The door blew open with a rush of the wind tunnel of the hall. A stalky lizard tumbled in like a ragweed onto the floor. The noise was transferred into silence and twelve pairs of eyes drilled him. He set about gathering the contents of his duffel bag back. 

Only a few beats behind, a broad chested man swung in. He stopped and looked down at the lizard. Stepping around and closing the door, he dropped his briefcase and jacket on the front desk. His square jaw was set hard, but broke into a tested smile.

"Well now. Looks like a stand up group here who's decided to commit suicide. I applaud you." The class broke into polite laughter. The lizard clutched his bag and went to Raphael.

"Hi Raph." He hissed.

"Hey Elias."

"You are the brave souls who've joined express archeology course offered at Boston New University." He clipped open his case and began removing sheafs of papers. "I am your instructor, Jonathan Sands. And in a few weeks, maybe some of you will be joining me in Argentina as was noted in the course listing." Jonathan Sands came around the table and offered a pack of paper to each student. "This is what we'll be going over in the rest of the week. Most importantly-" He handed the packet slowly to Elias. "The consent form on the top. If you have any fear of heights, mutilation, unusual death, or hard work, don't sign the consent." He gave the last to Raphael and returned to the desk.

A knocking at the door made each eye shift sideways, to a well-curved red head outside the room. The teacher nodded his chin up with another smile and closed his briefcase. "And don't bother coming back. This course is to prepare you for fieldwork; it's not an academic class. I don't want anyone here who doesn't plan on going on a dig in the next four weeks." He picked up his jacket and case handle, coming back around to the door. "Read that all over tonight, tomorrow, and Friday. By Monday I want only the students who will be sticking it through." The woman opened the door and he stepped out. "Oh, you're dismissed." He added with the doors close.

~~

Class, filing down the granite steps to the street, dispersed through the concrete campus. Elias hung back, stepping in place beside Raphael as he jammed the papers into his bag.

"Hey, so what are you doing tonight?" He quipped. Raphael cast a glance to the lizard. Wandering black eyes threw back and forth to him. Still with that goofy smile.

"Falling over drunk in an alley." He drolled. They both smirked. "I might be goin' home."

"No Way!" Elias cried. Outraged, he glared at Raphael, both eyes somehow focusing on the green face. "You're going to leave me in that class? Those guys'll eat me alive!"

"Only if you let them." The campus green opened up before them through the line of finely kept willows. "My brother's need my help. I need to go back to New York." Elias scoffed.

"Let them help themselves." He hitched his duffel around his arms like a backpack. "Besides-" He inserted. "You have a date."

"I have a what." He asked dryly.

"A blind date!" Elias proclaimed, his left eyes wandered while his right trained on Raphael's deadpan response. "I know a girl."

"Why are you giving her to me, then." Through another set of columns they reached the parkinglot. It stretched far with cars; Raphael made a beeline for the far side. His own bike gleamed with noon light. His heart purred like an engine at the site of her. That was the only girl he needed. "Seems like any lizard that doesn't meet your 'strict' standards won't exactly appease me." The lizards' tail curled and he laughed.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. This one's…" Raphael reached his bike and set his bag on the seat. "Ah- she's not my type."

"Which means she's mine."

"_Definitely_!" Elias proclaimed, feeling he had hit something. "She is _so_ your type." He droned. "She's hot, and funny, and smart, she knows all her capitals-"

"So does a seven year old."

"Yeah, but you won't go to jail for sleeping with her." Stretching the elastic bands to strap his bag to the back, Raphael paused.

"Wait, you're saying if I go out with her…"

"Well…" Elias's eyes rolled slower. "You never know." Raphael sighed and saddled his bike, beginning the engine. "Come on! _Just tonight?!_ Then you can go back to New York with your brothers and have your turtle family contra dance or whatever you guys do up there!" Raphael revved the engine_. "I already told her you'd meet her! She's expecting you!_" Scowling, he pulled out of the parking lane past his friend. "_Outside the old historical society at eight! You're going to a movie!"_

"No!" Raphael swung the bike around and reeled out of the parking lot.

"_She's hoooooooot_!" Elias wailed in the background.


	2. Chapter 2

Tugging brown loafers off, they fell by the door in a disordered fashion. Plain hemp sandals sat beside them serenely, ever becoming in Leonardo's minimalist home. Setting the stubs of the briefcase down, Donatello hastily pulled a manila folder out. His bare feet pressed discreetly against the rice piping mats.

Leonardo's home always felt cool if not cold. He suspected there was little insulation, which was accordant with what was being paid for the 'penthouse'. It was three thirty; he had left work early, so Leonardo was most likely to be in his meditating room in the back. He jogged through the apartment uncaring of the noise. The precious file clutched in his hands, he slid away the paper door to the side.

His brother, intelligent, but sometimes overly spiritual sat with his shell facing him. In some state of meditation obviously, on the broken tan pillow, he was frozen to a single candle. He knocked on the porous wood framework of the wall and Leo turned instantly.

"Don."

"I've found something." He waved the file, simultaneously undoing his tie. Going across the hall, he swaggered into the study, relatively proud at his own successes that day in spite of what he knew what his own state of off-guard. Leo came up behind him and took his place at the head of the table.

"I couldn't concentrate anyway." He rolled his ever-broad shoulders into a more casual position. "What did you find."

"It's a pretty good shot." Don took the paper out of the file and examined it again himself. "A property invoice." He thankfully saw it still had the substance he had seen, and handed it to Leonardo. He dusted the page off and took a scrutinizing eye to it.

"What am I looking at?" The question begged redundancy, but it was overlooked, as they both knew the pressing matter well enough. And Don knew the paper well enough not to mind the superfluous questions.

"My guess was the sword might've been taken for some artistic pursuit, so I took a look through property invoices of private museums—museums have to file paper work on all their incoming pieces, it's all input into computer systems—so I hacked some of the systems and scanned the recent pieces for antique samurai katanas." Something around the study triggered his memory and he began rooting again in the file. "Needless to say, there weren't a lot of hits. Out of the ones that I got though, this one-" He removed another set of papers. "stuck out."

"Uh huh…" Leonardo drolled, still scanning the print off. It was apparent he wasn't catching the same line Donatello was, which was obligingly remedied.

"These are the same specs as Masters sword! It doesn't include the inscription, but I blew up the photo that was included…" He arranged the papers end to end to display the entire photo, laying it on the tabletop. "I suspect someone scanned a polaroid, then lowered the resolution. All the other photos on these servers were much better." Leon put the invoice down. "But you can see here, where the characters are inscribed…" Leonardo snatched the lower half of the grainy photo.

"Yes, this is it."

"That there ah—what? How are you sure." Don's face scrunched in perplexion. He had been mulling over the papers for the half-hours drive to Leonardo's, and still couldn't say such a thing with complete belief. Leonardo scrutinized the picture more closely, but didn't change his composure.

"This last character is non-traditional. Splinter once explained it, it's clear enough here." He dropped the paper on top of the others. 

"So you think it's it." The nod boosted Donatello's ego.

"I know it well enough, even through your piss pot photos." He took up the invoice again. "If it isn't the one, then it's an incredible coincidence that a likeness showed up so soon."

"I agree." Don asserted. "Which begs the next question. Where the invoice is from."

"And?" Leonardo handed the paper over again, near complete gibberish to his eyes.

"Our luck. It wasn't exported. The genius, who couldn't launder it in a flower box, happens to be a genius with three P.h. D's in historical weaponry through archeology. Marius Minde." 

"That sounds familiar." Leonardo leaned against the side of the table and looked at his brother.

"Yeah, he was the one buying up the market on gothic _torture_ artifacts about ten years ago. He dropped out of the spotlight after that. But apparently not out of the historical collecting community. He's a member in the national historical society, though not in good standing.

"The databases' profile they kept online of him listed him as one of the wealthiest twenty-five members. He's also the only one not listed there as a philanthropist to any other community other than membership dues." Don pulled out the knot in his necktie and finally undid the top buttons.

"So he's money-wise. If he has it, why would he want the sword?"

"Well, the more the merrier of course." Don chuckled. "But this is a little richer. Minde is a narcassist, borderline megalomaniac. His collections are atrocious, but the bulk of it goes unaccounted for—except when he wants to bring it out for a showing apparently. I assume that's where our sword's got to."

"Well then. I hope there's something else." The corners of Leonardo's mouth pulled down.

"Yes and no. There was no home listing I could find for him, but it just so happens Minde is one of the curators of the Boston Central Historical society in Mass. It's somewhere to start." Leonardo boosted of the side of the table.

"And Raph's already there." 

"I'll call him-" Don interjected. "I have to make a few calls anyway." He said, slipping out of the room before his brother.

"Alright. I'll pick up Mike and meet you downstairs in an hour." Leo crossed into the meditation room, approaching a thin table by the back. He removed his swords from their catches and wrapped them in the black scarf. "Make sure-" He came into the kitchen where Donatello was cradling the phone on his shoulder. "to tell Raph _not_ to go without us."

"You think he would? He's not that stupid now."

"It's still Raph. Tell him to stay put. We'll meet him at his apartment tonight." Leonardo hooked his jacket of the back of kitchen chair and grabbed a ring of keys from the counter. "And Don, bring your weapon with you." Don's finger paused over the keys.

"…You think we're going to need them?"

"I don't know. I have a feeling." Leonardo pulled on his coat, his swords held under his arm.

~~

The last light turned out in the stodgy style box building, dropping the rest of the avenue to the glow of street lamps. Alleys painted nearly black with shadows encompassed the world, and draped the buildings with the tired end of the week lightlessness. It was odd that a public facility would be placed down such an out of the way district. There was no campus or sister office, only a few suburban businesses, including several small art galleries. Darkened now after hours. The sun had long left the coast, the cool ocean currents becoming chilly in the night.

Drawing a sheepskin coat tighter around, the girl adjusted her bottom on the deck rail of the closed historical society. She wished she was in the habit of wearing a watch, so she would know just how long this jerk had left her waiting. It felt like an eternity. Of course she was too ashamed to admit how nervous she was about this date, which probably protracted each minute to a painful stretch of time. Just wait until that ass showed up. He would feel her pain.

Maybe it was her own fault for choosing such an out of the way place to meet. Or her fault for listening to Elias in the first place. That idiotic lizard who she had befriended in her T'ai Chi class.

"Go on a date." She mimicked in his squeaky tones. "He's such a great guy." And _why_ had she been talked into it? She _never_ went on blind dates. Or dates for that matter. Men thought with their eyes before their minds. Some of them didn't even get that far. What had made her think this one would be any different.

Maybe the idea of a mutant her age, one who would have to be somewhat humble, would make an excellent date, was a bit unrealistic. Just goes to show never to judge a book by its cover. Especially when it's a book you order through the mail.

"Ugh. All men are jerks." She proclaimed to no one, hopping off the rail onto the slim deck around the historical society. A terrible roar surged slowly through the curves of the road. Each gated tree trembled with wind, looking as though the engine frightened them into rustling. Coming back to the rail, the girl watched as a black plated Harley tore up the pavement. Rubber smoked in brief puffs as it was seared into the road, wheels swerving around to sidle up against the curb. "Rich." She had seen few mutant turtles in the past seven years, outside of the television. This one had to be the most cocky sunofabitch ever to carry a shell. Black leather pants, brown leather jacket, and that hardened 'badass' expression. He even walked like he had a huge package. Something about mutants she had wondered about, but would never wager to ever find out. Especially with this jerk.

He was turning the engine off and stepping off the bike as she walked nobly down the ramp toward the sidewalk. She planned on simply walking off like she was about to before he came. The T wasn't that far anyway. Maybe just pass him by silently with a nasty look to show him how impudent he had been. She wouldn't even say anything to him. There was no way he could salvage _this_ date. Pompous self-centered ass. Maybe she should kick him in the shin too. But _damn_ he was built. She doubted she could do him any pain even if she wanted. Elias had told her as much, but she thought that was just more smoke, like the rest of what he had said.

Coming closer in the lamplight, she found a strange appeal to him. The softened jacket was open to a partly undone white dress shirt, untucked, but still not long enough to not be covered by the jackets bottom hem. His skin looked coarse, but not scaly at all. And his hands were wrapped up with black lacing, like he was a construction worker of some sort. When he finally looked up at her, she could see those inked brown eyes, of almost a flashing quality. There was a strange magnetism there, and she found herself drawing nearer then she had intended. Even going as far as to open her mouth. What happened to a book and its cover?

"Raphael, I assume." She offered in a neutral tone, with a clearly loaded question. _Let's see how he does with **that** one_. His face, although she was no expert on reptilian expression, was in some state of stupor that she was still speaking to him in such a civil tone. When realistically she should have been slapping him in the face for leaving her in the windy cold a better part of an hour with no word.

"You're still here?" His voice was incredulous almost. Obviously knowing who she was, there were no apologies spilling forth. Only later would she grasp that. Right now, she was only concerned with _his_ question. 

"You sound surprised_." What the hell is that supposed to mean? 'You're still here?' Gad!_ "You were expecting me to leave…" Something she should have done already. The fact that he pointed it out kind of stung. Something inside of her hoped he would be speaking sweeter. It was disappointing.

"Well…" He fidgeted, his uncomfort spilling over. "Yeah." She had to fight against the scowl, her jaw clenching. The kick was sounding better and better. She cried out in indignation in her mind. This was insufferable. And the only way to reclaim some dignity for herself was to walk away. Walk away from this whole affair and go home. Maybe kick his bike over first.

But as the seconds passed, so was her chance to leave. She had frozen in that place, refusing to quit. In growing protest of her brain. To her horror she found that her body was not moving. He was just staring at her, and she was rendered immobile by the option of walking off. She felt her face beginning to burn, and the abject terror of freezing up threatened to melt her into a puddle. _Oh god, this is terrible. Jesus, he's watching. Do something before he thinks you're a complete fool!_ Thinking fast, she sighed and ran her fingers through her blond hair, looking at the sidewalk_. Excellent! Progress! Now run! Run like the wind!_ Her fingers ran down her cheek to quickly cover her mouth, repressing the upcoming laughter. _Less laughing, more running!_

"Is something funny?" He might end up more confused than she was. Something else he likely deserved. She brushed it off as a cough and shook her head, looking up again under her own faculties. It seemed as though the terrible blushing had subsided as well, a minor pro against the cons of this 'date'. Not that he had the time to notice, already walking off at a brisk pace. _Huh?_

She watched him hurry toward the historical society, in yet another oddballed dismissal. Was he expecting the date to continue? If so, why in god's name was in going in there?

"_Hey_!" She called, following tentatively. He was already up the ramp and heading around the deck. Turning around to the rail, he looked down at her on the lawn. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Look, Miss," _Miss?_ "This really ain't the best time for this." She finally heard the New York bite in his accent. "If you wanna call Elias and reschedule or something, fine. I gotta work right now. So, ya know. Peace be wit' ya." He added backing away from the rail. The next moment he had disappeared around the corner. Outraged, the moment after that the fine black motorcycle banged against the pavement.


	3. Chapter 3

The lock was a cinch. A simple shutter and four wafer that was almost no challenged for the skilled ninja, trained in some aspects of thiefdom. Of course he had little concern over the initial locks. Even with the updated security systems, thanks to some of Don's know-it-all, they were a breeze. This historical society was nothing special. He expected that as he came up on the inner office things would be more complicated. The slim tool kit was tucked inside his jacket. Along with his paired sai in his belt like old times.

_'She's not my type'_ Elias's words rang in his mind. _Amazing_. Had to introduce the lizard's stomach with his fist. A human. He had almost been set up with an attractive human woman, one somehow familiar, and would have wound up with egg on his face by the end of the night, something which Elias had to have known. Maybe five years ago he would have given her a fourth glance, but after that first human date he had been stripped of that naiveté. No way would he go on a human date.

He had even waited long after eight, till he was sure this woman would be gone. Needless to say, when he saw her still there it had struck him as odd. In many capacities. Although not totally unpleasant. The girl was attractive in such a way he found himself struck to the ground. That this kind of creature had waited a whole hour stroked his ego, until he remembered she still didn't know who he was.

None-the-less, he had gotten rid of that distraction. Nothing would get in the way of his recovering the sword of the Hamato family. Not a woman, not the bottle of Mesopotamian wine on display, not the executive office lock, not a woman. The lock kit opened from the silent magnet clasps as he knelt before the hardwood door. It appeared to have been an antique at some point. But the lock and handle had been replaced by the impressive standards of the day. Locked, the door would only open to a signature fingerprint, releasing the three magnetic bolt locks in the wall. Not having a fingerprinted glove, as though he could use it, he would have to release the bolts manually.

A single bolt was tedious, and the triple lock required patient skill. It was something Donatello would be more adept with, of course. But he was not going all the way home to wait for his brothers just to sit around for four hours making one of Leonardos 'plans of attack'. As long as he was doing something stupid, he might as well be really stupid.

Firmly twisting the half dozen picks stuck in the locks' mechanics, he grunted as the last bolt released. Snatching the knob, he turned before the locks could return. The door willingly opened and he removed the picks, dropping them back in the case and sticking it back into the jacket pocket. He slipped into the office and stuck a slip of paper from his pocket between the lock and doorframe, keeping the locks from magnetizing—signaling the alarms. Pressing his hands against the door he exhaled. His wrists cramped from the twenty minutes and he rubbed them free.

The Minde office was a collection of primarily American civil war regalery and African tribal pieces. An unusual combination, Raphael thought. Exceptional only in it's tastelessness. There was a large colonial style desk facing out from the side of the room, the corners pillared with gold tinted world globes. Like the lock, another addition from a classic, he assumed.

The office was dark enough for his taste. He had traveled from the street side of the building to what the blue prints said was the reservoir side, where the office windows were open to the water. The moon reflected off the reservoir into the office, giving it only a pale blue light to see by. Raphael sat in the deeply cushioned seat and began holding papers from the desk into the light.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for. Just anything that would tell him where the hidden artifacts were. Or whatever he could find that he could bring back to his brothers that night. _Why doesn't this guy have a computer?_ He tried the desk drawers, also locked. Going back for his kit, he eyed a stone slab that had been mounted on the opposite wall, a sparse few lines of hieroglyphics. The display cases were parted before it. He dropped the papers on the desk and came around. He had seen some African drawn stories before, but these would hardly qualify. Frowning, he squinted down the slate. This central piece had no connection to the office design.

"It's druidic." The second voice went straight from Raphaels ears to his legs, which launched him to the ceiling. Instinct sent him up, out of whatever danger had been waiting for him, and instantly into ambush position. Although he was not wearing the hand spikes, he was able to cling to the tin paneling by sheer ninja willforce. A gift for which he was ultimately grateful for. The painted tin was cool, even through his shirt. He sealed himself against it and let the shadows blanket him. "What the…" It had worked. Not that he had doubted for a second—

Although he couldn't feel the back of his pants that well against his shell, he could feel the pants themselves pulling. As though they were being dragged down. And with horrified shock, turning to outright hatred for clothes, he heard the air being cut as his wallet dropped from his pocket. He glowered red into the ceiling, which he was otherwise correctly hiding upon, as the leather wallet clapped softly against the floor below his ass.

He heard the footsteps come forward, giving away the position by the door, and the shifting of clothes as their wearer knelt down to examine the vile projectile. He knew where their line of vision would go, and moved to a ready stance against the ceiling to either jump for the door, or at the intruder. When the stifled laughter came though, he was momentarily off guard.

"Holy god-" She managed. He heard her move back again. "What are you _doing_?" _Shit fuck! It's her_. She must have followed him. That was not on his agenda. He turned his head back slowly, his hold becoming rather precarious. "You can come down now." More hidden laughter. "I won't hurt you." He finally saw her screening her laughter behind his wallet. Since his attachment to the ceiling had become so loose he had to, flipping to the ground with an airy gracefulness. She stopped laughing as he stood before her, light colored eyes trained to his. The corners of her mouth smiled behind the wallet.

"What are you doing here." He asked flatly. She offered the wallet, and he took it.

"You piqued my curiousity. 'Working' and all."_ That was all? What is she, some kind of loser?_ "I saw you break in, and thought you might be some mercenary janitor for hire." She apparently thought this was amusing. But she had just given him a way out. Nodding his head, he added,

"Yeah. I am."

"Bullshit… What are really you doing here." She demanded simply. He scowled. Why should he have to put up with this? Grabbing her arm he walked her back to the door. This pest could mess up everything. "_Let me go!_" But she could also go to the police or something. He'd have to tie her up until his brothers finished after they came. The place was dark enough, he could keep her in some closet somewhere for a few hours. She wouldn't get hurt, and he'd make sure she could breathe. 

Grabbing the door handle, he made the mistake of first twisting it the wrong direction. A definative 'Shunk' sounded. Followed by another. He closed his eyes, and the third one came. The locks had magnetized. They were bolted in. Long strains of curse words wheeled around in his head.

So caught up in his own frustration, he almost didn't feel the arm struggling to be released from his iron grip. Finally she gave a mighty yank that jostled him out of his place. 

"_Let me go_!" She insisted. "It's not like I'm going anywhere _now_, anyway." He let her go and watched her retreat to the desk, rubbing her arm. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Scowling instead, at the trouble this girl had caused in the course of thirty seconds, he knelt down by the door. "You're a thief, aren't you." Leave it to a human.

"What," He took the kit out of his jacket. Maybe he could get them out of here before the swat team descended. "The only job a _mutant_ can have, has to be illegal."

"You tell me. You're the one breaking into offices and picking locks." _Touché_. It would be worthless to try anyway. The cops would be there before he could finish the first bolt. Raphael laid the picks in the case and stuck it back in his jacket, standing up again. "And now you're going to be arrested."

"Thanks a lot." He went to the plush chair behind the desk and sat down, acceding to the useless stress of the situation. "…None of this would have happened if it weren't for _you_." He bit. Hopefully she would feel shameful. It felt appropriate enough.

"Oh whatever." She threw back. Not nearly shameful enough. "Pardon me, but after being stood up for…" He watched her head rotate until it found the wooded grandfather clock. At least she had a pretty face. Being thrown in jail with that wouldn't be as bad. "_An hour_!?" He smirked. "I'm not that concerned with politeness." She turned to glare at him. "Which is more than I can say for you." Still smirking-

"That I'm polite?"

"That at least I was _decent_ before-hand."

"Ouch." He laid a hand across his chest. As long as he was resigned to his fate, he could at least be a shameless flirt. "Your words wound me, milady." Her eyes narrowed. No longer sure what to think of his tones. "I sense your anger, and I lay myself at your mercy."

"Oh?" 

"Ravish me with your words." He closed his eyes nobly. Peeking just a little when he heard sound, he watched her walk across the office. A nice ass, in tight pants. He really wished for that date, now.

"That's one thing Elias left out." His eyes opened the rest of the way. He had forgotten that Elias must have talked him up good for this date.

"Oh yeah?"

"That you're a damn idiot." She managed, laughing. Turning around to him, he watched her face entirely bemused. Well why not. There was no reason now _not_ to act like a fool. 

Straightening in the chair, he hardened his face, resting his chin on his fist. Glaring into the distance he added, "I am but a noble, sworn to serve lady-kind, until I am run through by their loving daggers… of love." He spoke in a hushed tone. That was much to much, and he exploded into laughter. The chair spun around on its wheels, joyful hoots resounding off the walls. If the police were unsure of which building to reach, the noise was more than enough.

He heard an unfamiliar clunking and looked up as the chair rounded again the front of the desk. Across the office, the girl had backed up laughing until she hit the stone tablet. He wound down into chuckling as she had, and ground his heels into the floor. She turned around to the stone and quietly backed away, sniggering into her palm.

An entertaining situation wound down, like the chair after he hefted himself from its cushions. Raphael came around the desk to the far wall. The girl had begun to examine the slate again, and he remembered she had said something about the writing. That was, of course, before he sprung himself onto the ceiling, and couldn't totally remember what he had come there for in the first place.

"What'd you say about this?" He came to stand behind the girl. She coughed out the last of her amusement. "Druids or something?"

"Yeah. Or thereabouts." Her fingers hovered over the characters. He watched them trail down the slate for a few moments. Before he could continue though, she continued herself. "Was this what you were looking for?"

"Huh?" He had forgotten about looking for anything. "No, not really." He admitted. "I was looking for…" He trailed off. Why should he divulge anything to her. Well, it wasn't like it was of any importance now _anyways_. "Clues or something." She turned partways to him.

"Clues?" Her blue eyes glimmered with some curiosity. _The bar!_ That's where he remembered her from. She had been at the bar last night. Hot damn. Again, the train of thought was lost as he looked into her eyes. He wouldn't have regained it if he hadn't noticed the raising of her eyebrow as the long moments passed.

"Huh, oh, yeah…uh." His eyes flashed up and back as he recalled the jolted memory. "Clues. Right." He turned back to the slab. What a fool. He restrained all the motions he was inclined to take to smooth over the akwardness, as they would be just a nail in the coffin. Taking a deep breath, "This guy stole something from my family. I'm trying to find out where he may be keeping it." Simple enough.

"Oh." She said softly, turning back to the wall. He looked down at the back of her head. She hadn't noticed his intent looks, and was peacable enough to just return to the stone. _Whew_. He let it go. "So," She looked over her shoulder, an offering smile. "Would you like me to translate?"

"You can translate?" She turned back again and looked it over. "Yeah. Do it." Her fingers returned, and began to trace around the incised symbols.

"It's a little broken here, but…

"Wondering eyes,

"Curious hearts,

"Seek my treasure,

"Speak the tongue,

"Be with…or at… Be at guard,

"A journey below."

A smooth grinding noise began churning around the floor. They both looked down at the oriental rug. Before Raphael could react, the floor opened up beneath them, letting them simply drop inside of it with a whisk of air.

~~


	4. Chapter 4

The thumb, wide by any standards, and a rich green from all the time he had spent in the park. He gave a long, souring glance at the sore indentation in the center of it. Using his finger instead, he pressed it hard into the appartment button. The sodium lights gave the dark street a chic orange glow, making Michelangelo decide to come to Boston again to stay with his brother. That is, if Leonardo didn't tear Raph's head off first.

Mike glanced back at the car. Leo and Don were now leaning against the hood, their expressions hardly shocked_. Oh, come on Raph. Couldn't you have been good this **once**?_ He pounded the buzzer until the squeal droned too hard in his ears.

"Give it up, Mike." Leo called. He took his finger off the button resignedly. Turning to his brothers, they sympathetically waved him back. "Don," He tossed the keys to Donatello. "We're going to have to find someone who knows the way."

"I think I saw a seven-eleven a couple of blocks back." He said with a sigh.

"Come on guys, maybe he just stepped out for a sec?" Mike took the place beside Leo as Don went to the drivers seat. Leonardo shook his head.

"Fat chance. Our boy's smart. Even if he is led by his dick." Mike looked at his feet. "If you want, you can stay here and wait for him. You can meet us at the Historical society as soon as he comes back."

"No, that's ok." Mike nodded. "I'll come with you guys." He opened the side door and knocked the McDonalds bags aside. "Don't want you to have all the action for yourselves." He grinned at Don in the rearview mirror as Leonardo opened his door.

"All in the spirit of sharing."

Air turned into wind, howling passed like the beginning of a tornado. The two dropped through the frictionless tunnel, apparently made by sheets of sodered metal. Raphaels jacket caught up behind him, cutting into his armpits. He struggled keeping his eyes open against the stinging wind. They were dropping like rocks, the girl a little below him.

He grasped her by the arms, and pulled her up to him. Her hair flew up beside his face, and he wrapped his arms around her back, up to her shoulders. After that first shriek, she gasped breathlessly for air. He had to breathe deeply through his nose, keeping close track of the unlit tunnel. They were falling at a slant, his shell being used as a sled. They wheeled up the sides. The track was turning. He forced them the other way so they wouldn't flip over and crush her skull.

The trip only took less than ten seconds. By eight there was a orange glow from below. Furrowing his brow, he stretched his neck to see over the girls jacket shoulder. The glow grew brighter as the tunnel dropped. Heat grew up the metal. Finally the shaft opened below them, exposing licking flames in a ten foot pit that was sliding up much too fast below.

He instinctively tightened his hold around the girl. It was hot as hell, burning his lungs as he sucked in air. He could feel his face getting an itchy tightness as they plummeted down, and the leaping flames bursting up at them. The fire simmering down a moment for another burst exposed the liquid fire beneath. Black chunks of crustiness were overturned and poped in a bubble of hot flame.

Still clutching the girl close, the open rim of the pipe was coming up. He struggled to see over the billowing edge of the rug, still tangled beneath his feet. Then finally, and floor edge appeared aside the fire. Narrow by the angle it was cut off at from the pipe rim he was seeing from, but still. He set his sites on the edge and planted his feet into the rug.

A roar of flames swelled over his view. When it was gone they were already at the end of the pipe. Raphael hooked his feet at the rim and jumped. The force launched him off, diving over the pit. The updraft scorched his face and he tucked the girls head into his neck. Another blast of fire flew, extinguishing before them into a screen of smoke. Flying through, they landed on the edge, which extended farther back. They fell hard and skidded to a stop, throwing up a copius cloud of dust ash.

The ignited corner of the red rug was slowly swallowed by the liquid lava, leaving a small hot bubble in its wake. The dust, suspended in air, began its reluctant drift down. Raphael, still questioning if he was alive or not, opened his eye. The grey screen resembled smoke, but with relief it was completely heatless. He opened his other eye and tentatively lifted himself up, listening hard.

The girl had landed beneath him, he hoped she had not broken part of her spine on the landing. Her eyes were still sealed shut and he watched her intently for some sign of life. Dust was settling over her face, leaving a light layer of paleness. She coughed hard, and he frowned. While he wiped his face she coughed several more times, leaning over to the side.

"Are you ok."

"Yea-_*ough* _" He hardened his arm around her back and helped lift her up. They looked over into the fire beside them, a jealous flip of flame trying to jump up to the floor. "You?" She said before another cough.

"Fine." Raphael patted himself down, checking his inventory. Everything felt fine and he worried. Something was missing, he instantly went for his sai. A light whisking sound alerted him, and he grabbed the hilt of his weapon. The small black case came soaring down the shaft. It flew off the end and dropped into the fire, flipping helplessly over itself. Raphael took his hand off his weapon.

"Wasn't that…"

"It was."


	5. Chapter 5

The pit, of what seemed like lava, flared on ardently. Looking down from the edge, Raphael was listless. Inside his mind, he was analyzing frantically. His only way out was cut off from him. There was only one direction open to him he knew as he looked over his shoulder, to the long hall behind. And there was the girl, his date, whom he now had to rescue. He would have to take her right through with him. If this was the welcome mat, what exactly was coming next.

All the supplies he had in hand were the sai, a dagger in his boot, pack of matches, and a credit card. He had fought with less. But had never gone on a mission without at least the essentials. Or with a passenger.

"This is…" The girl looked around. "…too much for words." Raphael knelt by the floors' edge and began feeling for any bars or sensors that would have begun there. "It's insane."

"Hmph." He felt up the walls. "No big surpsise though."

"Why's that?"

"This guy's already certifiable." Nothing unusual about the walls. Not to say that there wasn't something there that he couldn't feel.

"Well that's great." She rubbed her face. "What are we supposed to do _now_? There's only that one way open."

"Yeah." Raphael stood and looked again down the hall. There were lighted sconce lanterns along the walls, which cut off as the path turned a hundred or so meters on. He examined the one closest to him, removing the black top. The light was electric, some day-light deceiving halogen that was ever popular. The place had been visited at least once in the past year. Unless the bulbs were bought on special order. Then who knows how long it had been since another living soul had walked these floors. Or had been incinerated before they even could. He set the top back on. "Just stay close to me."

"I appreciate the offer." She gave her jacket two big swats, sending off the remaining dust. "Let's get moving. I have a feeling this place is just as dangerous as what's ahead."

"You're right about that." A tall blast of flame flew up behind, vanishing again into air. They started down the hall, inflating delicate rings of dust around their feet. The heat from the fire died out as they rounded the corners of the corridor. Drawing the jackets around themselves, they found how cold it was underground. That at least indicated a source of fresh air.

Raphael walked a little faster. Being cold-blooded, he knew if he became too chilled his senses would be at a distinct disadvantage. And if it became too cold, he may even go into involuntary hibernation. The girl jogged to catch up with him, and began walking briskly in step. Humans never had to worry about those kinds of things. They could go cruising around the Artic all they liked. Or skiing. Fortunately then, it looked like it wasn't going to get any colder down there. 

"Look at that." He pointed down the hall, which had straightened out for a period. Tiny flames leapt and puffed at the end. Another fire. He was silently relieved, and unconsiously rubbed his arms. "Finally."

"Fuck'n-stupid." He heard her mutter agitatedly. She was rubbing her face again with her fist. Her eye actually, and he turned his head to see.

"What."

"I think I got a piece of dust in my eye." She drew the side of her hand along her eye, drawing out a few tears. He wiped his hands off on his shirt.

"Let me see." She moved her hand away, and he leaned in for a closer look. The eye was definitely pink. He tentatively put his hand on her face, pulling the eye open. She blinked back.

"You're freezing!" He smirked. 

"Yeah, being a reptile does that." He tilted her head back to see. The tiny veins in her eye were hot and irritated. A bottle of water would have been handy.

"Oh." He rotated her chin around until he could find the pinkest spot.

"There it is." He said softly. Her cheek softened and he brought his other hand up for a better look. "Hold on." Turning his head just so, he blew gently. She squinted and blinked a few times.

"Ack." The eye closed over. He waited frozen, unsure if he had freed the particle or not. "Mmm. Aren't you supposed to do that in my ear?" The eye carefully opened.

"You want me to?" She smirked. She smelled good too. He ran his finger tips along her cheek, in the guise of removing his hand. Humans had such soft skin. He bet she was soft all over too. _Blow in her ear_… Well, this was _kind_ of date-like. Her eyes opened noticabely wider. He must of fixxed everything.

"_Get down!_" He barely felt the grab on his jacket lapels. With a whisk he was yanked down, turning on his boot with a twist. He hit the floor with a slam, although it seemed like the floor hit him with a slam. A groan burst out, hitting the ground so ungracefully. The girl landing ontop of him added injury to insult. Another cloud of dust rose up over them. Again, it suspended in air. He waited as they drifted downward, watching vacantly through the shield of blond hair. The pain in his shell echoed up through his spine.

The veil carefully lifted, arms propping themselves up beside his chest. The long body was pressed all along him. He was definitely feeling warmer. Licking his lips, he raised his eyeridge at the girl. She looked around over him, the lacking lights cutting off most of her face in shadows.

A swift whistle cut the air. A brief sheen of silver caught the light and enveloped itself into the wall. Raphael lifted himself up on his elbows. A moment later it returned, a fat blade hung by heavy rope and chain swung through the hall. It disapeared into a crack in the wall. While his eyes still trained on the wall, peripheral vision picked up another glistened on the other side of the hall. As the first blade swung back, a second giant axe swung forward, just a yard back. 

In timed sequentiality, suspended blades began dropping. Until finally the entire corridor before them with a sea of swinging metal. It cut nothing yet, but the clouds of dust which had been drawn on the updraft. The weighty chains creaked and cracked with age as they arched from wall to wall.

The girl climbed off Raphael to the side. They crawled back from beneath the blades until they could both sit up. Raph watched the glaives swing. He could see his despondant reflection in each subsequent blade, and looked away to rub his eyes.

"Fuckin' dust."


	6. Chapter 6

Cursing under his breath, Raphael wiped the dust out of his eye. It came out and he backed farther away from the blades. Taking the girls elbow, he helped pull her to her feet while he stood. She stood beside him, still holding her hand up as he clasped her arm. A roar of rushing air, and creaking chains, filled the hall before them.

"Holy shit…" The girl murmured. Raphael could only nod once in agreement. He had never seen anything like it. Definitely a challenge. Each blade fell too low to crawl under or along the side corner. 

The chains passed too quickly; if he tried jumping over he would be caught up and knocked down, no doubt. If he could jump one blade at a time, there was about three feet of space he could stand. As long as there weren't any more traps on the floor… But the girl too. How could he leave her behind? There was no certainty of him even being able to get back to save her if he could get out himself. He had an obligation to protect her.

"Just great." Raphael approached the fixture. He held his finger out and felt the old cold steel slide pass. He may never make it out of here.

"I have an idea." The voice behind him seemed out of place. She had an idea? That never happened in these situations. He turned around with a skeptic eye. "I need your watch." She held out her hand and he glanced at it. He must have paused too long because she sighed impatiently. "It's not like I can run off with it or something." Glaring, he unsnapped the heavy watch from around his wrist. "Thank you." She said curtly as he dropped it into her hand. Turning back to the blades, he returned to his musings.

His sai were too weak a weapon to break the chains. A battle-axe would have come in handy. Or a katana for that matter. A bo at least could have been rigged to stop the swinging. If the gears were revealed in the ceiling for the chain, he could possibly use his sai to throw a kink in them. But that would only work twice.

"I think I have a solution for this." There was that voice again. He turned around again to find her settled on the ground, pencil and watch in either hand and long mathematics done out before her. Fair blue eyes looked up at him; he grudgingly gave her his attention. _Leave it to a girl_. 

"Alright, let's see." He knelt beside her and scanned the numbers. Never being good at math, he kept his mouth shut.

"All those things are going at the same speed. At the same distance apart, and the same length, the pendulums reach their minimum point at inverse intervals of…" She tapped equations on the ground as she spoke. It was obviously important, but his mind turned to jelly just glancing at the long divisions. He nodded absently while she talked. What were his brothers doing by now? When she stopped, he looked back up.

"Yeah. Right."

"Did you hear a thing I said?" Again he paused. Rolling her eyes, she added, "If every one point four seconds you jump from the chain of one to the next, you'll be landing at the lowest point point possible of the pendulum… get it?" Raphael stood back up and looked at the blades.

"Yeah… so I can jump each of these when they get low every one and a half seconds."

"One point four." She came up behind him. "And yes." 

"And that's gunna work?"

"Uh huh." She jammed the watch back into his hand and approached the first blade. "I'll even go first and show you how it will." She said airily. Raphael snickered. _Was she serious?_ That was too good. He pursed his lips shut when she turned to glare at him. "You don't think I can do it?"

"Uh…" The glare turned harder. She turned and was preparing to jump to the first chain when he grabbed her arm. "Hey, hold on." He laughed. "Not so fast."

"You think 'cause you're a guy, you can-"

"_Hey,_" He stopped laughing. "Look. Maybe it'll be safer if we just go together. Don't go do something stupid." 

"_Stupid?_ And what makes you think _you_ can do it, anyhow." She asked skeptically. He pulled her back.

"Call it a sixth sense." 

"I'd call it something else, a little less favorable." She rubbed her arm after he let her go, and leaned against the wall. "Who do you think you are, anyway." Raphael rolled his eyes, clasping the watch back on his wrist.

"Christ. Didn't you ever read the news." He turned the timepiece around to face him.

"What does that have to do with anything. You were in the news? Are you the 'Reptile rapist' or something?" Raphael smirked.

"Before that."

"Jeez." She sighed, racking her mind. "What, a turtle in the news…" Bringing her inquisitive eyes up to him, he watched them dilate without adequate light. "Is this New York, like, ten years ago?" His silence was as good as an answer as he pulled his sleeve back down. "_Ninja turtles?_" She waited. "There's no way… that was all in New York!"

"So. It's not like I can't drive or something."

"Oh…yeah." Her brow furrowed again, this time out of curiosity. "You came to Boston?"

"Your deductive skills are exemplary." He quipped.

"I mean, all that stuff in the papers. The crime and everything." Her hands opened. "What about that?"

"You're pretty nosey." He could see he caught her off guard. It wasn't his fault he didn't like people prying around in his past. How could he know how well or not she would understand. Not that he would even have the time to explain. "I don't think we have the time for this right now." He eyed the blades again. "We have to get passed these things."

"But wait! This is amazing! I mean, I wrote a report on your and your brothers in junior high."

"Why?" He laughed. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter." Although he did want to hear more. Why had anyone want to have written anything about his family? "I think I know a way to get us both through safely…"

~~

!

~~

"How did I get talked into this." Raphael heard muttered into his ear. Grasping the girls' thighs, he hoisted her farther up his shell, rewarded with a surprised squeak. She tightened her arms around his neck, and he was glad he could smile freely without her knowledge.

"Got the watch?"

"Uh huh." The slim wrist beside his chin turned, revealing the face of the watch.

"Alright. You count off, and I jump. Got it?" The hair behind his head nodded in agreement. He gripped behind the inside of her knees, her body held against the curve of his shell. "Don't freak."

"Don't drop me." He began a light jog. Fortunately the girl held on tight, and didn't bounce on his back. The blade was coming down, he stepped it up. Reaching its low, Raphael sprung. The width was nearly two and a half feet, so he was glad he had kept in shape. On landing, he realized the edge wasn't as thick as he had hoped.

The boot slipped immediately. He seized the chain with one hand. The leg it held wrapped around his stomach, followed by the other. He grabbed the chain again with his other hand just before she said,

"Go." As they came up to the wall. He leapt, reaching out for the next chain. Grasping the stale rope, his boots hit hard on the next edge. This one was an easier landing. He bent his knees in preparation, and eyed the next blade. It was just beginning to fall from the opposite side, and he worried about under shooting it. "Go." Jumping, he seemed to hang in air between the two chains. The floor was coming up beneath, and he barely caught the rope before they fell below. Seven left. "Go… Go… Go… Go… Go… Go…" The heat from the fire loosened Raphael's muscles. He now had a vague sense of timing, and watched the next swing coming down. Ringing his hands around the chain, he, "Go." Jumped, landing swiftly on the edge. Swinging off the last blade chain, he landed low to the ground, touching with his fingers. He was staring straight below to the fire.

The girl climbed off his shell, pulling him back. "Woah. I can't believe that worked." She murmured, glancing back to the other side of the blades.

"Good thing, huh." He wiped his hands on his shirt.

"Yeah." Approaching the pit, the girl looked around. "But this…" Raphael joined her.

"Uh huh. You have any math fixes for this one." He ran his hand over the wall.

"Uhhhhh. I don't know… give me a minute." The stones of the wall were mildly porous. Raphael scratched his nail against it, gauging the solidity. It was obvious to him that a good steel could pierce it.

"I think I have this one." He unsheathed his sai. The pit was deep like the last one, about fifteen feet across though. The flames licked and flipped at the air. "You wanna climb back on?" He looked over his shoulder and grinned. Eyeing his sai, then him, she responded.

"What are you thinking." He tapped the wall with the hilt of his weapon.

"Climb the wall. All you gotta do is hang on."

"Stop it. You're making me hot." She answered dryly. "Will those things hold?"

"We're going to find out." The girl came behind him, and he jammed his first dagger into the wall. "Kay." She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her elbows down against his chest to keep from strangling him. "Don't let go." He rammed the second sai in, and swung out over the floors' ledge. There was a bit of give, and he hung for a moment to assess it. Pulling the sai out and crossing over his hands, he was sure to jam it in hard. The fire began singeing the hem of his pants; he felt it at his leg._ Damn._ He removed the next sai and plunged it farther away into the rock. Each subsequent move was that much harder.

Resting hair against the back of his neck, the girl still clung to him. He grunted, jamming the sai down a few more feet.

"So what's your name, anyway." He asked, in an interim to rest his arms.

"Oh, that's rich." She chuckled. "You don't even know my name." Raphael removed a dagger and swung down. She silenced till he gained a new handhold. "Do you know _anything_ about me, I wonder?"

"Elias didn't tell me much about you. I know you're not seven."

"That's a start. Kind of." She said. He smirked and reach over his arm to the next hold. The hair nuzzled against his neck as he assumed she shook her head. The floor was coming up, about five feet off. "My name's Kelsey."

"Kelsey." He followed with a grunt, plunging the sai into stone, crumbing rock spraying off into the fire. "Pleased to meet you. Raphael."

"Yeah, I know." They shifted over another few feet.

"Hey, just being polite."

"It's about time." Crossing over, Raphael smirked and set his foot on the ledge. He pulled the far sai out and leaned over onto the floor. Kelsey released his neck and stepped away as he removed his sai and stuck them back into his belt. He again brushed the dirt off his shirt and turned to her.

"Of course, Milady." She rolled her eyes. "Don't mind me." _I'll just save your ass._

"Right."

__

~Hey, what's going to happen next? I don't know! It's a mystery! Any suggestions would be really great, doncha know. Thank you, sen˜or and sen˜oritas! ~ 

~Sasami


End file.
